


Mon Amour

by asongincomplete



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 08:53:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9714191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asongincomplete/pseuds/asongincomplete
Summary: When they finally get around to saying those three little words it's not in English.





	

Languages had never really been her forte, oh she’d always been good at picking up the odd phrase here and there, but fluency has always escaped her. You’d be hard press to find anyone who’d say Bernie was any good at expressing herself even in English. She had, however, always been excellent at spotting languages, spent quite a bit of her time stuck in airports and foreign bases trying her best to differentiate between Russian, Ukrainian, and Belarusian; she got very good at telling Pashto from Dari during her last tour. 

She’d gotten so good at it that picking up romance languages was almost too easy and yet when Serena panted something very much not in English and oh so damn sensual Bernie was hard pressed to keep the rhythm of her thrusts never mind figuring out the language. 

It wasn’t until much later, when they laid in bed still sweaty and sticky and oh so very sated that Bernie got a chance to bring it up. “What was that by the way?”

Serene fingers continued languidly tracing patterns on her hip, “Hmm?”

“Earlier you said something, and it wasn’t in English.” 

Serena looked up surprised, “Did I?”

“You didn’t notice slipping into another language?”

She watched Serena’s still pink cheeks turn a darker shade. “Serena, what is it?”

“Nothing, it’s jus…well, it’s never happened before actually. Mum was half French, so I spoke French before I learned English, it’s never really come up before though. I was only ever comfortable speaking it with her.” 

Her hand raked through the slight damn brown hair, “Are you trying to tell me, Ms. Campbell, that you panted some French phrase in my ear because you were so comfortable that you simply forgot yourself?” 

Serena answered her grin with a laugh, throaty and loud and oh so very Serena in how lively it was that it made Bernie’s heart swell with love. That wasn’t new at all, Bernie knew what she felt even if she was true to form and unable to put it into words. 

“Something like that, and you can wipe that smug look off your face, Berenice, it’s unbecoming.” 

“Oh, I’m in trouble am I? That’s a bit unfair simply for point out the truth. What did you say?” 

Serena stilled completely, very much a deer in headlights look about her. 

“Serena, what is it? Tell me.” 

The lovely blush spread down Serena’s neck and to her chest, she looked delicious. “Tu me manques mon amour. Je t'aime plus chaque jour.” She spoke softly, blushing deeper, but looking straight at Bernie. 

Bernie had never picked up much in the way of French on her travels, but je t’aime was easy enough to understand. Neither of them had said the words yet, Bernie was never brave enough when it came down to it, and Serena always seemed to stop herself, out of fear it would seem. 

“What does it mean?” Bernie asked, voice soft and almost pleading, it was high time they got around to this. They’d spent the better part of half a year falling into each other’s orbit, becoming best friends, they’d shared kisses and separations, all Bernie’s fault, but now three months after finally falling asleep in each other’s arms it was time. Serena deserved to hear the words and Bernie needed to hear them too. 

Serena’s eyes didn’t stay on her own this time but focused on the spot where Serena’s fingers laid on her skin. “I miss you, my love. I love you more each day.” 

There were so many ways for her to have been the brave one for once, so many chances, but Serena was far more courageous than her. Bernie had always known that, but it still filled her with pride and love. “I am your love, Serena, and you are mine.” 

The hand on her hip tangled in her hair so fast Bernie chuckled and was almost instantly silenced by Serena’s lips on hers. Hungry and insistent as every, Bernie went with it as she always did following Serena’s lead, opening her mouth at the slightest swipe of Serena’s tongue eager as always to taste each other. 

Serena’s hand took its usual place at the back of Bernie’s head determined to make space a theoretical concept as if they weren’t already breathing the same air. Bernie loved the feel of it, possessive, claiming Bernie in every kiss. It might have been the first time Serena utter the words, mon amour, but she’d been shouting it every day since Bernie’s return from her stupid run to Kiev. It was there every time Serena insisted they take one car into work. It was there when they crossed the car park hand in hand. It was there when they shared a glass of shiraz at Albie’s where Serena sat as close as possible without actually being in Bernie’s lap. It was there when Serena had washed and made space for Bernie’s clothes in her wardrobe without a word, only kissing Bernie’s surprised look away. 

God, if only Bernie were as good at reading Serena as she’d become at differentiating languages, what an idiot she had been. Serena, her wonderful, beautiful, ever patient, Serena had been keeping the words themselves firmly locked away so that Bernie wouldn’t run. Not that Bernie could object, she’d done the last time Serena went near the word love. Well, Serena might always be far braver than her, but Bernie wasn’t going to be a coward either. Not anymore, they both deserved better. 

She broke the kiss, leaning her head against Serena’s, “Mon amour.” It didn’t sound nearly as good as when Serena said it, Bernie couldn’t quite roll the r’s, but Serena apparently didn’t mind that Bernie butchered Adrienne’s native tongue if the bright full smile was anything to go by. “Je t’aime,” she tried again fumbling her way through it with less grace than the first. 

“Oh come here you,” Serena commanded, and they were kissing once more. 

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently, my 'muse' just doesn't like being rushed, this one is much better and I like it a lot more than the drabble. Cheers.


End file.
